


Cataplexy

by facade, PenguinBowTie



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Angst, Bullying, Collaberation, Creativity Flex, First Person P.O.V. Excerpts, I Didn't Realize I Took This Down With My Work, M/M, Originally Posted/Completed: 2014-03-18, Reposted Work, Self Harm - Implied, Sorry Love, Suicide - Implied, Test Fiction, Writing Flex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-15
Updated: 2014-07-15
Packaged: 2018-02-08 22:43:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1958862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/facade/pseuds/facade, https://archiveofourown.org/users/PenguinBowTie/pseuds/PenguinBowTie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><strong>Cataplexy</strong>: a sudden and transient episode of muscle weakness accompanied by full conscious awareness, typically triggered by emotions such as laughing, crying, terror, etc.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sergio: Romanticized Recollections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laughing

The images are distorted now, nothing more than blurry little pixels, colors running together. A face comes into focus now, as all of the other colors slowly begin to fade. Time stands still, the earth’s spin comes to a halt, standing still on it’s axis. The sound of fluttering breaks through the silence, whether it be the flutter of the wings of a butterfly or the flutters of a heart, who knows… A curve dripping with suggestion, orbs of light narrowed with intention, two roses glowing in perfect symmetry. The images are distorted now, nothing more than blurry little pixels, colors running together. A sound drowns out the silence, it brightens the blurred images, but now they scatter like static: out of control, without direction. Cataplexy consumes: lingers. The sounds achromatize and sharpen, achromatize and sharpen. These walls shatter, vulnerable to the sound of those rhythmic contractions. The images are distorted now, nothing more than blurry little pixels, colors running together. Color finds the blurred visage and the sun finds residency upon it, lining the hills with it’s physicality, avoiding the valleys, kissing the highest point. The images are distorted now, nothing more than blurry little pixels, colors running together - romanticism finally succumbs to reality.

You who I’ve always cherished, you who I’ve always adored: I was left out in the cold of this world, why was it you who poured water over top of me? You who I’ve only but loved, you who I would have traded my life for: you watched me suffer with the weight of this life, why was it you who stepped over top of me? You addressed me as “loser” when I only wanted to know your name; my name is not loser. You labelled me as “fag” when I only wanted to kiss the valleys of the sun; my name is not fag. You branded me as “freak” when I only wanted to wipe away your tears; my name is not freak. No, my name is foreign to you but after today, after today you will know who I am. I have carved it upon my skin, alongside all of the other names you once had for me, will engrave it upon your memory as something you won’t soon forget.

The images are distorted now, nothing more than blurry little pixels, colors running together. A face comes into focus now, as all of the other colors slowly begin to fade, fade, fade away. Time stands still and the earth’s spin comes to a halt, an orb of green and blue standing still on its axis. The sound of fluttering breaks through the silence, whether it be the flutter of the wings of a butterfly or the flutters of a heart, who knows but… 

...after today, you will remember me, remember my name. 

 


	2. Fernando: Silent Apologies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crying

I had found the words a month ago but I never found the courage to say them. I had found the strength to bind them on paper with ink but never the courage to place it into the palm of your hands. I wanted to ask you your name and so much more, ask you where you had moved from and why... Instead, instead I found myself uttering “loser” in my fear. I just wanted to tell you that you were not alone in your feelings as I saw you leaning in towards me, instead I uttered “fag” in my cowardice. I only wanted to thank you when you found me crying in the halls that day, but I called you “freak” in my own self-shame. Now my palms sweat around this folded page and the ink on this paper runs: away with any and all feeling, away with you.

I can hear the whispers voiding the silence around me but I can’t believe them to be true: “... he had a name etched on his arm”, “Why did he do it”, “... he threw himself off of the top of Torre Espacio”, “Why did he do it”, “... he went insane”, “Why did he do it”, “... he tried to fly”. I can hear the whispers and I know, I know they’re about you. I saw it in your eyes the day before, see it in the tear filled eyes of your parents as I wait outside of the dean's office.

The images are distorted now, nothing more than blurry little pixels, colors running together. A face comes into focus now, as all of the other colors slowly begin to fade. Time stands still as the earth’s spin comes to a halt, an orb of blue and green standing still on it’s axis. The sound of shattering breaks through the silence, whether it be the shatter of glass or the shatter of a broken heart, who knows… A curve once holding hope: falling, drenched in sorrow, orbs of light: darkened, the flame that had once burned within them: extinguished. Color leaves the blurred visage now and a dark shadow finds residency upon it, lining the valleys of that face with its physicality, avoiding the hills, painting only the lowest points in darkness. Two roses once blooming in perfect symmetry, withering as the plains of a face fell to a winter's white. A sound drowns out the silence, it darkens the already blurred images but now they send the pixels scattering like static: out of control, without direction, fleeting. Cataplexy consumes: lingers. The sounds bounce from achromatic to sharp, achromatic to sharp... These walls, they shatter, vulnerable to the sound of those rhythmic contractions. The images are distorted now, nothing more than blurry little pixels, colors running together. Time stands still but, no matter, time has already run out. A face comes into focus now, as all of the other colors slowly begin to fade, fade, fade... The sound of shattering breaks through the silence, whether it be the shatter of glass or the shatter of a broken heart, who knows…

 

 


	3. Paqui: He Flew

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wasn't part of the original post but it was something PBT wrote and I simply loved it (haha - this is what happens when you don't post it yourself, love <3)

You asked me why you couldn’t fly. Dirty knees, a frown on your face, a fat tear falling from the brown of your round eyes. Your first aspiration: before the football, before the confusion. You wanted to fly. I lifted you from the ground, held you as high as I could, made you fly, my little angel. I watched as the wind blew through your hair, as the cold tickled your nose, as you flapped your arms in the breeze. Your little voice still speaks to me, I can hear it in silence, I can hear it in moments of confusion. I can hear my voice and I can hear my words, but oh, how I wish I could swallow them now. I told you flying was for the angels and the birds, for the mystical and for the otherworldly but no… You flew. You flew away from me. Forever.


End file.
